


silk and satin

by exrsapphics



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables), Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Combeferre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exrsapphics/pseuds/exrsapphics
Summary: courfeyrac has always loved wearing feminine things, especially dresses, and is finally embracing that side of himself.but if only the one person who mattered the most would stop avoiding him for it.(based on my tumblr post at @/exrsapphics)
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	silk and satin

When Courfeyrac first wore a dress to a Les Amis meeting, a knee-length pastel blue swishy one with a sweetheart neckline, he’d never felt more confident. He’d always been comfortable in his own manliness and bisexuality; after all, he’d dealt with comments of disgust and ignorance far too many times to care any longer now he’d found people who liked him for he was.

That’s what he’d thought, at least.

There’d been compliments and whistles all around the room to which he smiled happily at and twirled around, showing off the pockets (which Cosette had been more than invested in) as Jehan asked him where he got it.

Even Enjolras had said something when he’d sat next to Grantaire as he played with the frills and called it ‘fucking dope’ with a raise of his beer glass which Courfeyrac had laughed at. He’d rolled his eyes and let out huff that sounded annoyed but he knew him for too long to know it was nothing more than fond. “Yes, we get it, Courf. You look great, we all love it. Now can we please get back to our discussion?”

“I’m a princess right now, I do what I want.” He grinned and R laughed, but he turned his head back to his speech.

He appreciated it. Although, really, it was obvious Enjolras just wanted Grantaire’s attention on him again.

And now he thinks about it, it’s ridiculous he didn’t notice sooner how much Combeferre – his best friend, his kind, handsome, intelligent best friend – hated it.

If it was anyone else, he’d think ‘ _fuck them, this is my life and I don’t care what anyone thinks_ ’ and move on. There wasn’t any point caring. But this was Ferre. And his opinion mattered. Honestly, more than anybody else’s.

Because here he was, in a strawberry dress that he’d waited weeks to arrive, and Combeferre hadn’t uttered one word to him the entire few hours. All he’d gotten was a small nod of hello that might as well not have happened considering how quickly he turned back to Enjolras.

He’s really trying hard not to let it ruin his day. When the package had arrived at his and Marius’ apartment, he’d done his best not to dance around the house with excitement – the puff sleeves fitting over his tanned arms well, the strawberries sequinned and sparkling in the sun that was being let in through the open window and the lace around the waist that was just so pretty, making him feel like he might be on top of the world.

But now he could feel the energy draining away.

“I still can’t believe it.” Grantaire says giddily beside him, his smile wide and crooked.

“Oh, I can, when he’s not been shutting up about you for years.”

“You’re exaggerating.” He bumps his shoulder, but a blush is spreading on his cheeks. “I think he’s gonna take me to this art museum for the date. Enjolras has never been subtle, has he? I saw him looking it up. Not that I’m complaining, it’s so sweet of him. I’ve got so lucky, Courf, honestly—”

If it had been any other time, Courfeyrac would be listening intently and giggling, making lewd jokes here and there, but his eyes are set on Combeferre across the room.

He must be talking to Enjolras about something important because his nose is scrunched up in the way it gets when he’s frustrated, and he keeps pushing his glasses up even when they aren’t slipping down.

He almost nudges Grantaire to alert him to the fact that Enjolras is looking bored and his eyes aren’t on Ferre anymore but are flitting over to where he sits, a little smile playing on his lips whenever he looks over.

But he doesn’t – because Ferre just licked his lips as a slight pause in his what looks like a speech and suddenly he’s distracted again.

“You alright?” Grantaire is frowning at him.

“Do you think I’m overdoing it with the dresses?” he can’t help but blurt out.

His face was blank for a moment before it went angry. “Did someone tell you that? Do I need to get Bahorel?”

“No, just me. I don’t know, I’m worried.”

“Courf, you look hot as fuck. And not because of the dress, though that helps, but because of how you are when you’re confident and happy in yourself. Do you even see how people look at you?”

“That doesn’t matter to me though, you know that.”

It was true. The attention he got wasn’t ever from the one he wanted. Sure, he felt wonderful with compliments from his friends – but they weren’t from a certain man with deep brown skin, his usual dark blue jumper under a pale blouse, arms full of heavy books that he manages to carry at once, excitement in his eyes at new documentaries that Courfeyrac would have used to find boring but now loved.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, don’t even start, Combeferre is it for you. You’re acting like you don’t see how he looks at you.”

“That’s kinda my problem.” he sighs dramatically. “I know I’m overreacting. But I just know he hates it. He won’t look me in the eyes or even speak to me. And I can’t deal with it. You know how I feel about him.”

Grantaire gives him a strange look for a long moment and Courfeyrac is about to question him about it, before he bursts into full-belly laughter.

*

Combeferre was having a crisis. If he hadn’t known before that he was in love with his energetic, bouncy, constantly giggling best friend before, he certainly did now. Of course, Courfeyrac had always been amazing – fun, talkative, only had nice words to say about others, and understood Ferre in a way nobody else ever had, never any judgement in his wide hazel eyes. And there was always the overwhelming urge to run his hand through that chocolate colour mess of curls that Ferre had to stop himself doing more than once.

He was always beautiful, ever since the day he met him, but now he’s positively radiant. He was glowing every time he saw him, his smile beaming along with the blush swirling in his cheeks when people complimented his outfits. And, _oh_ , how he wished he could be on the receiving end on of those blushes and have caused it himself.

But how was he supposed to? How could he stand sitting next to him when he couldn’t kiss his rosy lips or intertwine their fingers together?

He didn’t really know when he fell in love with Courfeyrac. It could’ve always been there, when he thought about it. There were hundreds of reasons why he loved him, and each time he could try and count them, his mind would keep adding more.

The first person to ever truly listen to him when he talked about his interests like different facts about moths, long (mainly one-sided) discussions about the book he’s reading or a fact he’d learnt that day about moths or another species where anyone else would’ve zoned out or made excuses to leave, but he’d stayed interested, chin in hand and a smile on his lips.

“What do I do?” he hisses to Enjolras when he sees Courfeyrac stand from his conversation with Grantaire, not really sure whether he hopes he’s coming over to him or isn’t.

“Ugh.” he groans. “We’ve been through this a million times. I asked R out. Now you do the same for Courf.”

“I’m not ruining our friendship by making him uncomfortable… with my feelings.” he reminds him firmly. “If I lost him, I don’t know what I’d do. Okay? I just can’t.”

“Remember who we’re talking about here. If he said no, he wouldn’t make you feel bad. You know that.”

“Neither would Grantaire, but would that make it any easier if he rejected you?”

Enjolras grimaces at the idea, clearly hating just the thought, but suddenly his face is schooled into a neutral expression.

“He’s coming this way. Go.” he hisses, before standing up and walking towards Grantaire instead, who lights up at seeing him.

And – fuck, he’s right. Courfeyrac reaches him, nervously playing with the lace on his dress and this is simply cruel because _why_ does he have to be so beautiful?”

“Hey.”

Combeferre gulps, breathing out a “hi.”

“Can we talk? Outside?” he gestures to the open door, letting in a cool breeze.

“Sure.”

He nods, brightening a little, and takes his hand to lead him out.

Logically, he knows Courf is an affectionate person and this is probably his new habit like the time he’d spent weeks hugging everybody whenever they approached him. Even still, it made his chest pound and a warmth spread across his whole body.

“Are you okay?” Ferre says when they lean against the wall outside and his hand is dropped, Courfeyrac’s face turning sad which he hates.

“Not really.”

“Is it something I’ve done?” he asks softly. “You can talk to me.”

“Ferre.” he takes a deep breath. “I know how you feel about me.”

It’s like his whole body goes limp. He knows. He knows, and that’s why he looks so unusually sober because he’s _Courf_ and he feels bad for not returning his feelings when he has no obligation.

He can’t help the crack in his voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I was being obvious. I... I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. For making you uncomfortable. It just really hurts. You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine.” he has to bite his lip to stop it trembling, and blinks away tears.

“Whatever I can do to make it better, I will try. I promise. Anything. I don’t wanna lose you.”.

Courfeyrac tries a smile but it’s not the one he adores so much. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not letting that happen, you know, you’re stuck with me.”

“I hope so.”

He takes his hand again, which confuses him for a moment, but this is Courfeyrac – loving, too good for the world Courfeyrac who was trying to make him feel better.

“Can I ask something?” he says, so quietly that Ferre wonders if he was imagining his words for a moment.

“Of course.”

“It’s just.” he swallows. “Why?”

That makes Ferre turn to him, seeing the way he’s hunched up a bit like he’s trying to disappear, twisting a stray curl over and over in his nimble fingers.

He huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “Have you even met yourself? I’m not surprised you don’t feel the same. You’re amazing. I could give you a million reasons why I’m in love with you.”

“You- _what_?”

Courfeyrac’s eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar.

“Oh, crap, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, I told you I’d try to stop and I really will, I promise—”

“You love me? You’re in love with me?”

“Well, yeah.” he’s somewhat confused now. “That’s what we were talking about. It’s worse when you wear the dresses, it’s just you’re more confident and… I’m doing it again. Courf, I’ll leave, okay, I won’t—”

He’s cut off again, but in a more than welcome way.

The lips that he’d dreamed of so many nights are on his, just as soft and warm as he could ever have imagined. He can feel Courf smile as he deepens it and he wraps his arms around him, his mind short-circuiting of logic in the sweetness and faint taste of strawberries like the ones on his dress of Courfeyrac’s mouth.

He draws back, and can’t help but moan at the sudden lack of contact. But Courf pushes his glasses up and kisses his forehead so gently that he almost wonders if this is all in his mind again.

“You perfect nerd, Ferre. I’m in love with you too.”


End file.
